I’ve just finished reading Kelvin Cruickshank’s autobiography Walking in Light, which (being a big fan of Sensing Murder) I found fascinating. The strange thing is, I cannot shake the feeling that I’ve gotten to know Kelvin by reading it. I feel like I should say hi if we were to bump into each other on the street –which seems to me to be just a little bit crazy.
That’s when I realised the real difference between an autobiography and a biography. When someone else is telling the story the belief systems and/or prejudices of the author (which will always come through) have no real bearing on your feelings toward the subject.
Yet when you read an autobiography everything said, even the phrases used to say things are all from the subject (Kelvin regularly uses the word ‘choice’ which took me straight back to my youth in the 80’s and always made me smile). It is more like sitting down for coffee with someone who just opens up and lets it all flow out.
To be honest it feels a little bit strange.
It reminds me of how I felt when talking to an author at World Con last year and I made a comment about the beautiful view near her house. Now yes on first pass it sounds like I’m a stalker, but the fact is I enjoy reading her books, so I started reading her blog and she keeps posting pictures of these amazing views from her house. But the creeped out look she gave me made me wonder who she was actually writing these blog entries for?
Which obviously begs the next big question; who am I writing this blog for? Perhaps a post for another day…